


thieves in the night

by allourheroes



Series: thieves in the night [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman and Robin (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Companion Piece, F/F, Family, M/M, Minor Violence, Sequel, Sexual Content, batfamily
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-09
Updated: 2015-11-09
Packaged: 2018-04-30 19:22:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5176757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allourheroes/pseuds/allourheroes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Damian was only just seducing his former mentor, Bruce and Jason were negotiating their already established relationship--if it could even be called that. Somehow Dick and Damian had figured things out a bit quicker.</p><p>[DCU Bang 2015]</p>
            </blockquote>





	thieves in the night

**Author's Note:**

> I will figure out the proper linkage later as I'm already _past the deadline for amnesty week_. Yikes.
> 
> Thank you to my wonderful and talented friend who did the art for this as well as my friend/cheerleader/beta [TheLiterator](theliterator.tumblr.com), without whom this would still be an unfinished wreck.
> 
> Title is from the song "Thieves in the Night" by Hot Chip, much like the title of its predecessor. (This takes place partially during that fic, as well as for a time after.)
> 
> EDIT: [GO CHECK OUT THIS GORGEOUS ART](http://euridice-h.tumblr.com/post/132906087595/)!
> 
>  
> 
>   
> 

Jason buttons up his pants with far too much satisfaction. He knows Bruce is still watching him. "Maybe I'll see you later," he suggests, but in a way that says he won't.

Bruce looks hungry and Jason has to stop himself from going back for round three. While Jason tries to make himself semi-decent again, Bruce heads to the shower--an invitation Jason forces himself to ignore.

He tries to be quiet as he leaves the room, closing the door almost noiselessly.

"Jason?" he hears, and cringes.

"Timmy," he says, and he's grown rather fond of Tim, really, but Tim is smart. He waits for Tim to make the next move, can see the way Tim's gaze sweeps over him.

"Were you training with Bruce?" Tim asks. "You're all...sweaty."

Training, Jason thinks. "Training," he repeats out loud and his temporary confusion must be obvious, but he covers it well. "Yeah," he says. "Gotta keep the old man on his toes." He grins and raises his eyebrows reflexively.

"Why do you always say things like that? With that..." Tim's face scrunches up. "Tone."

Jason shrugs, smirking at Tim. "What're you up to, replacement?"

"I have a date," Tim says, rather proudly, and it's cute how the kid thinks his relationship is the most important one there is and, perhaps, will ever be.

Jason clucks his tongue. "Make sure you use protection. I've heard rumors about how Superboy was made." He gives a low whistle. "Better safe than sorry."

Tim frowns at him. "I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about," he says primly. But as he turns to go, Jason sees him typing away furiously on his phone.

Pleased, Jason makes his way out of the manor.

~

“Grayson is staying over,” Damian tells Alan, offhand, as he flips through a book.

Rolling his eyes, Alan takes the book--as it is, in fact, _Alan’s_ book--and tosses it onto his bed. “Your boyfriend is hot,” he says, and waits for Damian to respond.

Damian’s face is inscrutable for a moment, but then he glares at Alan. “He is _mine_ ,” he warns.

Alan shakes his head. “He’s a human being.”

“-tt-” But Damian is frowning down at the floor now. Damian is _considering_ it. “I _know_ that,” he says. His expression has softened by the time he looks back at Alan. “It’s none of your business.”

“You’re lucky I like him,” Alan responds, annoyed.

Damian hums, but he doesn’t disagree.

~

"You really think this is a good idea, B?" Jason asks. He lights his cigarette, his bare leg still draped over one of Bruce's, takes a long drag.

"No," Bruce admits, and he takes Jason's cigarette and puts it out on Jason's worn bed frame, crushing it. "But I want you there."

"Why?" Jason asks, and he's already pulling out another cigarette, as if nothing has happened. "Feel bad that I got the short end of the stick as a kid?"

Bruce sighs. "It was only an offer, Jason. I thought you might want to go."

Jason hesitates, but he lights his new cigarette, puffs on it for a while. "Not sure I have the right outfit for that kinda thing anyway."

“I could have something made.”

There’s a moment where Jason is frozen, thinking of how to respond. He realizes that Bruce doesn’t ask him what a normal person would--what someone might _need_ if they’re offering to buy someone else expensive fitted clothing. “I thought you’d need my measurements, but I’m sure you have them memorized.” He smirks, if for no one but himself.

“Mm.” It’s only a noise, barely worthy of the word “syllable,” but it means “yes” and Jason knows it. As if to distract--or, perhaps, _emphasize_ \--the meanings to be found behind that little noise, Bruce places a too-tender kiss to Jason’s shoulder. “Just a thought,” he says.

Jason nods. An alarm sounds and Bruce is dressing and rushing and Jason is pretending he’s not about to head right out there with him, to make sure Gotham is safe despite all his bravado.

Bruce is about to disappear. Jason can tell, can _sense_ it. “Do it,” he grits out, and even though Bruce is gone when he turns his head to where the man should be, he thinks he’s been heard. It would be easier if he hadn’t been, if he could pretend he didn’t _want_ to go, to be by Bruce’s side again--and not in a life-or-death situation, he hopes, or just sex... It’d be easier if it was just sex, but Jason is pretty sure there’s no way it ever could’ve been, even if he had tried to convince himself the first dozen or so times they had hooked up.

The rest of him would be crushed if Bruce thought he had rejected the invitation.

A week later, a bespoke suit--perfect for Jason, of course--arrives at his door. And Jason can’t help the smile that comes at this confirmation. It’s replaced quickly by concern as he remembers all of those things about their relationship he can’t define without feeling lost.

~

Bruce can tell that Dick is uncomfortable with his presence lately, but he isn't certain why.

He doesn't know if he should be worried or leave it well enough alone. It's nothing life-threatening, nothing earth-shattering. Dick is acting like a teenager caught thinking about sex.

Bruce can remember when that was indeed the case, but it's odd to think of, long ago as it was now.

A couple of years before Bruce had even found a boy trying to steal the Batmobile's tires.

Bruce knows the suit will fit. He can picture it, but he also knows it will be nothing compared to _seeing_ it.

He allows Dick his little secrets in deference to his own.

Dick has never been able to hide things for long.

~

“Dami,” Dick whines. “Dami--” He hisses out a breath, leans in for another kiss, then manages to pry himself away, even as Damian chases his bottom lip with a nip.

Damian is still grinding mindlessly against him, desperate for friction.

“We ha-- ah, ah!” Dick tries to lift his hips, but Damian’s legs are wrapped tight around his, keeping him down.

“ _Grayson,_ ” Damian murmurs, and he’s out of breath. His pupils are dilated and he’s flushed, his cheeks splotchy. He’s barely coherent. Dick can see it in his expression.

Dick tries to ignore how much he wants to come. He tries to ignore how fucking _hot_ Damian is underneath him.

He cups Damian’s cheek and Damian makes this little grunting sound, body still hitching upwards.

Dick kisses him.

Dick gives in.

Dick _always_ gives in.

~

The gala is going as well as can be expected.

It had been awkward, showing up at the manor in his suit. Jason had been hoping everyone would be out. Hell, most of the batkids are now bat- _adults_. Even the replacement has graduated from college--if only so that he could attend even _more_ college.

Jason is trying very hard to pretend the feeling is annoyance and not envy over Tim’s education. Only Damian had seen him in his suit, thankfully.

At least here at the gala, the only thing Jason really envies is the ability to _be_ with someone. Publicly and openly.

Not that-- not that Jason wants that with _Bruce_. That would be…

It would be…

 _Really nice_ , his brain supplies, and he stamps out that thought like the fire it is in the dry brush of his mind.

He and Bruce are just supposed to be “colleagues” or “associates” or whatever it is that Bruce keeps supplying to the rich people filling a high-ceilinged ballroom that is just _beautiful_...and that Jason is certain people have been murdered in. They _are_ in Gotham, after all.

After a couple of glasses of champagne, Jason decides that the least he can do is make a game of it.

“This is my friend and colleague, Jason,” Bruce introduces, choosing not to supply a surname.

Jason waits until Bruce has turned ever-so-slightly back towards the socialites, although their attention remains on Bruce Wayne’s mysterious companion. He lifts his fist to his mouth, jabbing his tongue into his cheek as he mimes a blowjob.

Although an old man’s mouth opens in shock and his adult son lets out a snort of what just _might_ be amusement, it’s the older woman that Jason is most pleased with. The older woman’s eyes widen comically and she-- _get this_ \--clutches her pearls with a gasp. It’s absolutely perfect. Jason could not have even _hoped_ for a more stereotypical reaction. Just as quickly as it happens, however, Bruce is focusing back on him and Jason has to cough into his raised fist as cover. He smiles as sweetly as he can--it probably comes off two shades too far--and Bruce has to school his expression into something resembling vaguely confused colleague rather than “mad dad.” Not that Jason doesn’t see _that_ just below the surface, giving him _terrible_ ideas.

Bruce doesn’t give him a verbal warning and Jason knows the man can’t have forgotten by the time they’re moving on to the next rich weirdo, but now he _wants_ something from it.

“This is--” Bruce starts, after his own introduction.

“Jason,” Jason supplies. “Or as Brucie here likes to call me: ‘honey buns.’” He winks, borderline lascivious.

Bruce forces a long laugh. “He’s my new assistant,” he explains. “What a wonderful sense of humor.”

Jason has snatched up a canape and is chomping away, so he just raises his eyebrows in lieu of a response.

The two women look somewhat skeptical, but they seem to accept Bruce’s lie and Jason supposes it’s for the best.

This time, Bruce says, “ _Jason_ ,” in his dad voice, in his _Batman_ voice.

Jason is more pleased than anyone should be.

He lets the full round of greetings finish this time, grinning as he says, “Associate. Escort.” Jason shrugs. “Same diff, right? Either way, he’s paying me.”

The old man just shrugs back and Jason is slightly skeeved, but amused nonetheless.

Bruce drags Jason to the side, careful to hide his firm grip on Jason’s elbow.

“Finally,” Jason says on an exhale. He glances over to the exit. “I think there’s a restroom that way just itching to be christened.”

“Jason,” Bruce chides.

“Bruce,” Jason teases.

They’re at a stalemate for a moment, neither willing to back down, but it’s Jason who simply arches an eyebrow and Bruce who lets himself be led into a bathroom with questionable intent.

It’s not as if they aren’t careful. Stealth is a part of their everyday lives, after all.

They wait.

As soon as the chance arises, they’re glued to each other in a stall--luckily just as fancy as the rest of the place, with little room for peeping despite its somewhat public location--in the darkly lit restroom.

Jason had palmed a hundred bucks to the blind attendant as an apology and now has legs wrapped tightly around Bruce’s waist--because Bruce can handle it.

Jason manages to tear open Bruce’s shirt with one determined hand and a button snaps against the wall, clatters to the floor.

Bruce just glares, unwilling to possibly out himself with a verbal reprimand. Jason just smashes his face into Bruce’s and does his best to grind against him. It isn’t like he can’t feel how hard Bruce is for him already. Right now, Jason very much does _not_ regret fingering himself before he put on the suit-- _just in case_ , he had decided. It’ll make things _much_ easier.

“Fuck me,” he murmurs, and his fingers deftly undo Bruce’s slacks. Bruce’s hands are already on his ass and Jason can almost hear Bruce’s thought process before he’s yanking Jason’s pants down past the curve, trapping his thighs. Suits don’t have nearly enough give for these activities and the tearing of seams is audible in the bathroom. The murmur of voices and music grows louder and the door must’ve opened, but Jason knows Bruce is past stopping.

Bruce’s fingers feel him and Jason gets just that much more excited when Bruce lets out a breath--a sound of _weakness_. Bruce’s finger delves into him and Jason clenches around it.

“More,” Jason says, hitching his hips. His hand reaches down to stroke Bruce’s cock as his own strains against his crumpled slacks. He stops to pull a packet from his pocket and rips it open with his teeth. Maybe he should’ve brought a condom, but it’s just lube. It’s going to be messy--going back out there slick with Bruce’s come, sticky as it slides down his thighs. Jason moans overly loud at the thought.

He wedges his now-slicked hand over Bruce and holds himself up, getting into the correct position to-- “ _Nn_. Fuck me, daddy.”

Bruce clamps a hand over Jason’s mouth, but he obeys, even as Jason plants sloppy kisses on his palm. 

Jason shifts his hips, uses his legs for leverage, to get himself _fucked_ as best he can. 

Someone coughs loudly--and very purposefully--but they ignore it.

Or, rather, Jason gets off on the fact that some high society douchebag is made uncomfortable by his sexcapade. He suspects that Bruce likes it, too, if the way Bruce turns them, presses Jason’s back to the stall door and fucks him harder, is anything to go by.

The lock rattles threateningly, ready to give out and have them tumbling onto the tiles. Bruce’s hand moves, grabs hold of the space where the door and the frame of the stall meet, trying to hold the thing together just one moment longer.

Jason crushes his mouth to Bruce’s, groaning into the kiss as Bruce fucks him, shifting himself just so until--

Bruce stops breathing--doesn’t make a goddamn _sound_ \--as he comes. He uses his hips to keep Jason pinned in place for the second it takes him to move his hand from Jason’s ass to Jason’s dick, jerking him off, making a mess of that new suit he’d bought for his former partner.

Jason can see it in Bruce’s face: the moment Bruce realizes what they’ve done, _where_ they’ve done it. They disentangle their bodies.

“Alright, B?” Jason murmurs, stiffly finding the floor with his feet. He glances down and grimaces at his clothes. If he buttons his suit jacket, it should hide the stains well _enough_. He tries to clean himself up, to be _somewhat_ presentable, but he _hopes_ that he still looks like he’s just been fucked.

After all, it’s the truth.

Bruce has checked the bathroom, is shoving Jason out towards the sinks and fixing his hair. Bruce, of course, looks _perfect._

Jason shakes his head. Bruce isn’t perfect--Bruce let him die.

Jason’s thighs are sticky.

The rest of the night is spent in delicious discomfort.

...But Jason doesn’t let Bruce take him home.

~

Dick peers in through the window, hoping to find Damian. He’s got a hoodie on over his costume and he hopes that’s enough to keep his identity concealed.

He finds the wrong pair of eyes staring back at him.

Dick thinks about ducking, about dropping down to the ground and hiding, but that...might be a little weird.

So he waves instead and Alan only looks a _bit_ wary as he comes to open the window.

“Hi,” Dick greets. “Um. Is Damian around? He doesn’t have class on Thursday nights. I thought. Well--”

Alan saves him. “He went to meet a friend.”

Dick looks utterly baffled for a second and Alan smiles at him.

“Yeah, that’s how I felt, too. But I guess if he could get someone like you…” Alan trails off, shrugs. “I think he said he was going to meet his friend Colin?” he suggests.

 _Oh._ Dick nods. “Yeah. Okay. Thanks, Alan.” He glances down. “I’ll just...go, then.”

Alan glances around. “I guess you could stay, if you wanted. He’ll probably be back later--not that he told _me_.”

Dick hovers in indecision for a moment, briefly notices Alfred curled up at the foot of Alan’s bed, but moves on. Alan has made him a kind offer, but he was here to surprise Damian, to ask him out...on patrol. He should probably be on the streets already. He shakes his head. “Thanks-- _Again_.” He hopes that his smile is enough to keep Alan from alerting the authorities about his teenage roommate’s old-ass boyfriend creeping at their window late at night.

“没问题,” Alan replies, waving him off. The second Dick is out of sight, however--and Alan _checks_ \--he’s murmuring to himself, “那么奇怪.”

Dick hears him anyway, hanging his head in embarrassment.

Well, it could’ve gone _worse_ , he guesses.

~

Jason pulls a handful and little packets from his pocket--a bunch of loose condoms of different varieties taken from an LGBT center he had once donated to with stolen money. He shoves them into Damian’s hand. “Here.”

Damian tries to hand them back, and he is blushing, although he hides it well. “No need,” he tells Jason.

Jason raises an eyebrow. “You may be a virgin”--Damian looks outraged, opening his mouth to respond, but Jason continues--“but our little Dickie-bird has gotten around.” He looks at Damian hard, but Damian holds his indignance, despite the embarrassment and some jealousy, too-- _that_ Jason can see clear as day.

“I am well aware of Grayson’s past lovers,” Damian informs him.

Jason is pretty sure Damian knows less than he’d ever admit, but he’s not going to grill him on it. “Uh-huh,” he says, disbelieving. “Look, I just want you to be safe about this. Don’t wanna get chlamydia your first time out.” It’s half-joke and half-warning, his genuine concern hopefully evident.

“I _know_ ,” Damian tells him, indignant but still just as embarrassed. This whole conversation is probably torture for him and Jason is only _somewhat_ pleased with this. He’s banging the boy’s dad, but that doesn’t make him Damian’s _parent_. Although he and Talia-- Well, that’s beside the point.

“You ‘know’?” Jason asks.

Damian starts to falter, but he juts his chin up in false bravado to hide it. “ _Yes_ ,” he affirms. “I had him tested.”

Jason can’t help cracking a wry smile at that. “Alright,” he accepts. “Good.” He realizes that Damian is still trying to hand the condoms back and he waves him off. “Keep ’em. Just in case.”

“I--”

“Geez,” Jason says. “For my sake, alright? Wouldn’t want Bruce to think I’d been negligent.”

“My father doesn’t need to know.”

Jason smirks. “Doesn’t mean he won’t.”

“ _-tt-_ ” Reluctantly, Damian tucks the packets away.

There’s a silence that falls then and Jason wonders about Damian. He wonders hard enough that he can’t help voicing a question.

“And, uh. What do you think about me?” The implication hangs heavy in the air and Jason can see that Damian knows what he means, can tell by the way Damian does not react. There’s no concern. No confusion.

“What does it matter?” Damian asks, but it’s not really a question.

It’s a bit disappointing as far as reactions go, but Jason is relieved nonetheless. “Alright, kiddo.” He ruffles Damian’s hair and Damian swats at him, but Damian could have stopped him had he truly been averse. It’s _affection,_ and Jason is happy.

Despite all of his insecurities, Jason has been happy a lot recently.

~

It’s probably why his little fantasy world has to come crashing down now.

They’re in the same alley where they met when it happens. The same alley Thomas and Martha Wayne had died in.

Jason’s fingers are caked with dried blood and Bruce’s gloved hand is tight around his throat.

“No killing,” Bruce--no, not Bruce, _Batman_ \--grits out, low and angry.

“Little late for that again, isn’t it?” And Jason is smirking. In reality, he’s exhausted. There will be bruises underneath his jacket, his jeans. Maybe worse--his shoulder feels sticky against the cotton of his t-shirt and it hurts to lift his arm, but he’s not about to let on.

It had ended up more kill-or-be-killed than Jason would’ve liked. He’d rather not die again, not without-- He sucks in a breath as Batman’s grip slams him back against the bricks.

“What’re you gonna do, B? Lock me up?” He raises an eyebrow. He’s struggling to focus. His head is ringing from Bruce’s force, the rest of his body trying to stay upright.

Bruce is breathing hard. “If I have to.”

He gives Jason a hard shove and then he’s disappearing into the night like he is wont to do.

Jason uses the bricks to keep himself stable, at least until he’s sure Bruce has really left him there.

 _Left you to die again_ , his subconscious murmurs. “Shut up,” Jason grunts, to no one, but he’s just about past caring. If it didn’t feel like he had to, he wouldn’t do it, but with Roy and Kori unavailable, Jason taps into the bat comm line. “Oracle?”

“Jason, what is--”

“ _Help_.”

Two capes--one black and one purple--arrive to find him unconscious and haul him to the family’s preferred doctor.

~

Bruce closes himself off-- _more_ than usual.

Batman is more brutal, although the family can see his regret in the tiniest of grimaces after he’s pushed a perp too far.

Bruce spends more time in the gym than he has in years, alone with his thoughts and the unfortunate equipment that must put up with the brunt of his anger.

“Anything you need, sir?” Alfred asks from the doorway. When Bruce doesn’t respond, he huffs a sigh. “I’ll leave your lunch by the weights,” he adds, in a way that says Bruce had better eat, should he not wish to incur Alfred’s wrath.

This time, Bruce grunts in reply.

“He is not the rebellious young man he once was,” Alfred says and, with that, he stalks out with the purposefully crisp click of his shoes.

There is a second of hesitation before Bruce lands a particularly hard strike to the punching bag in front of him.

~

“Have you recovered?” Damian asks, feigning indifference as he pulls on his gloves.

Bruce isn’t supposed to be in the cave tonight. He stays silent, but he is somewhat surprised when he hears the voice that responds.

“Good as new,” Jason brags, then hisses in pain.

Bruce had just barely seen Damian reach out to jab Jason before he secrets himself completely out of sight.

“ _-tt-_ ” Bruce hears footsteps and holds his breath. 

“Nearly,” Jason amends. “But I can’t let you go out there alone.”

“I can take care of myself.” There’s a pause. “I don’t want to take care of you, too.”

Jason chuckles. “Still,” he says, and Bruce can hear the strain, the _persuasion_ Jason presses into his speech. “Oughtta keep you company.”

The moment stretches and Bruce wonders if they’ve discovered his presence, but then he hears Damian sigh.

“If you must, Todd.”

“Oh, I _must_ ,” Jason tells him.

They leave soon after and Bruce is left feeling somewhat out of the loop--something he isn’t too familiar with. He searches for any recent records on Jason or any of his aliases and finds that there are scans and X-rays. He looks through them and his heart might just stop beating.

That night…

Back in the alley. When he and Jason-- When he had been so _angry_ \--is _still_ angry when he thinks about it--

Now, though. Now he might be angry with himself.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks, without turning.

Alfred sets a cup of chamomile tea down in front of the console. “You are quite stubborn when you wish to be, Master Bruce.”

Bruce half-smirks to himself. Alfred is right. He’d been so upset with what he had thought--had _assumed_ \--that he hadn’t considered any other options.

It had been so brash, so… But it was Jason. The way Jason fits into Bruce’s calculations is often flawed, clouded by his conflicting emotions.

His fingers tighten around the handle of the teacup, remembering the way he’d just _shoved_ Jason against the wall. Bruce doesn’t know if the crack that resounds through his mind is real or imagined. He doesn’t _quite_ wince, but Alfred’s hand on his shoulder tells him that the other man knows his thoughts just as surely as if he had shouted them.

Bruce considers going out to find Robin and Red Hood, but it’s too soon. He’s supposed to be in Metropolis tonight.

~

It’s a few days later when Bruce “accidentally” finds Jason.

There’s a tension in Jason’s entire body when he sees him, like he’s frozen in place. Bruce doesn’t know if it’s fear--that _crack_ against the brick--or just uncertainty.

He hates not knowing.

Carefully, he confesses to what little he can. “Are you alright?” he asks, knowing that Jason can’t have recovered fully yet, knowing that Jason _can’t_ be and trying to communicate that knowledge to Jason.

Jason is likely surprised, but Bruce can’t tell through the damn red helmet. “Sure,” Jason responds, confidence forced. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Jay--”

“So does the ‘no real names’ thing apply to everyone but me?” Jason interrupts, defensive.

It’s then that Bruce realizes he should’ve started off with an apology. They don’t come naturally not to him, not when it’s about something like this. “I…” He steps closer and Jason’s posture changes, readying to fight or flee. “I’m sorry.”

“For using my name?” Jason asks, doubt creeping into the front he puts up.

Bruce frowns. “For the alley,” he says. “I didn’t know.”

Jason scoffs, finally prying the helmet off to reveal a domino mask underneath. “Really? The Batman isn’t omniscient?” He gives a low whistle. “Coulda fooled me.”

Jason’s sarcasm may be heavy-handed, but Bruce isn’t annoyed. “I know you’ve been better.”

Jason runs a hand through his hair, letting out a derisive laugh. “‘Better,’” he repeats. “Right.”

Bruce sighs. There’s nothing he says that can’t be twisted. “What can I do?” he asks-- _implores_.

Finally, a smirk appears, filled with mischief rather than scorn. “Bet I can think of something,” he says.

Somehow, they make it back to Jason’s bedroom in the manor first. Bruce had seen signs of him since the holiday season had begun, but Jason had never been anywhere to be found when he’d been looking.

Bruce leaves when an alert sounds for a robbery downtown and Jason, thankfully, stays home to rest. Bruce wants Jason to fully recover, but he misses working with him. It had almost become routine again before the alley.

He likes Jason at his side.

~

Bruce’s phone rings at six in the morning, some journalist asking for a comment about the morning’s paper.

Luckily, it hadn’t been Pyg but an imitation and he’d made it home to sleep two hours previous. It doesn’t make the sudden barrage of questions on the other end of the line any more pleasant, however.

“What about my son?” Bruce asks. He pulls up a local tabloid online and no longer needs what little sleep he had desired. “No comment,” he adds quickly.

He hangs up the phone even as the noise grows through the speaker. He’s an expert at looking polished when he needs to, even if sex and sweat and the grime of a factory should still be clinging to him from the night’s escapades.

Alfred is at his door when he pulls it open, holding a tray of toast and coffee--the kind of breakfast a day like this requires.

It can be figured out. He’ll just have to spend his day writing checks and spinning lies. He hasn’t had that kind of workout in a while.

Everyone else can get some well-earned rest first. After all, it’s Christmas.

~

The kisses are soft, as if Jason is breakable.

“I’ve been broken,” Jason says. “I always get better.”

Without looking, he can still feel Bruce’s frown and bites down Bruce’s jawline. He ruts his hips against Bruce’s and is rewarded by the forceful grasp of Bruce’s hands on his ass.

Jason knows that Bruce is avoiding all of the issues surrounding that _other_ Batman and Robin team that got too close and Jason is happy to be his distraction.

It’s not like Jason hadn’t seen the pictures. It’s not like he hadn’t _known_.

~

Damian calls Dick and Dick tries not to have a heart attack.

“He’s going to kill me,” Dick says. “I know he’s got that no-kill thing, but he’s going to kill me.”

“- _tt_ -” comes the sound from the other end of the line. “ _Grayson, don’t be absurd_.”

“I’m dead,” Dick announces.

There’s silence. Then, Damian says, “ _I’m coming over_.”

The call ends and Dick Grayson spends the next ten minutes seriously considering relocation, perhaps with the help of some other heroes as the government would be of no use against Batman’s resources. Someone _has_ to have some sort of backup plan in case of emergencies.

Damian opens the door without knocking and Dick wonders, if ever so briefly, when Damian had made himself a key before realizing the question is pointless.

“Damian,” Dick says, and he shouldn’t sound so relieved, but some small part of his brain had feared The Talk he knows must be coming for him soon would arrive with Damian.

“Grayson, stop being so dramatic,” Damian tells him, unwrapping his scarf and pulling Dick in for a kiss. “Father worries more for your safety than mine,” he explains seriously.

“That can’t be right,” Dick says, but a part of him remembers the difficulty Bruce had had accepting Damian into his life, in simply trusting his own son. Although he and Bruce hadn’t been on the best of terms when he had chosen to drop out of college, that was a long time ago now. Even then, Bruce had only been upset because of how much he wanted Dick to succeed. Dick swallows down these thoughts. “No,” he affirms. “I’m the predator here.”

“He told me not to harm you,” Damian tells him, no hint of humor or deceit. He blinks as Dick’s defensive smile falters.

“ _Ha_ ,” Dick forces out. “As if you could.”

Damian eyes him carefully, but takes Dick’s hand and starts leading him to the door with little fuss. “Come,” he says. “I need you to wrap everything.”

This time, Dick’s laugh is real.

~

Kon has finally made it to Gotham after spending the holidays with his own family and Tim thinks he can forget about the terrible thing he has witnessed.

In fact, when Kon is dancing with him to some song on the radio, singing along even though he doesn’t know the words, Dick and Damian are the last thing on his mind.

He doesn’t think about it when his phone rings, just answers the thing.

“I saw the picture online!” Miguel is shouting.

It takes a moment for Tim’s brain to catch up, but when it does, his face falls.

Kon looks concerned until Tim gestures to the pile of newspapers on his desk.

“As if we need that type of scandal...” Tim starts, and he falls back on his bed.

“It’s almost cute,” Miguel tells him from the other end of the line. “I mean, I’ve never thought of that boy as happy before, but did you see the shot of them walking down the street together? Damian was _smiling_.”

“Ugh. Why are you telling me this?” Tim frowns. “Wait. How many pictures of them are there?”

“Shouldn’t you already know?” Miguel chides, but then he’s humming and Tim is certain that he’s scrolling and clicking and _looking_.

“So?” he prompts. Kon flops down next to him with a newspaper in hand. Tim adjusts his position, rests his head on Kon’s stomach.

“Only, like,” Miguel sighs, “five or six? There’s a rumor about Nightwing and Robin, too, but luckily no actual evidence.”

“The rumor’s bad enough,” Tim whines and his pillow starts to move. He shifts to look at Kon and finds his boyfriend grinning and then full-on _laughing_ , the newspaper tossed to his side.

Tim swats at Kon--like it does anything--and Kon grabs Tim’s hand and kisses it.

“It’s not funny,” Tim says, glaring.

“Um.” Kon is pulling Tim up to cuddle with him. “Totally funny. Hilarious, even. I--”

Tim puts his hand over Kon’s mouth and Kon licks it. “Gross!” He shifts to straddle Kon and then he hears it: the shouting coming from his accidentally abandoned cell phone. He picks it up, shouting back, “Sorry, sorry!”

Miguel stops yelling and sighs. “Since this has obviously turned into some weird foreplay thing for you two, I’m going to hang up now. Have fun!”

“Bye,” Tim replies, grimacing. He checks that the call has ended before he looks back down at Kon, who raises an eyebrow.

“Well,” Kon starts. “He’s not wrong.”

Tim opens his mouth to retort with something to the contrary, but Kon leans up to kiss him and he chases it until it turns into something else.

~

It’s a surprise when Bruce shows up in Jason’s apartment, but it’s no surprise where it leads.

Jason holds Bruce down and rides him until they’re both sweaty and sated. Everything is going pretty well, all things considered.

But...Bruce has never been any good at pillow talk, and this time is no exception. Jason had been dreading it since Christmas, but the fact that he’d avoided it for multiple _days_ felt like a monumental success. He’d like to believe it’s thanks to his ability to switch off the cognitive part of Bruce’s brain.

“Dick... He and Damian...” Bruce is cringing. He can’t stop cringing. This is the most awkward conversation he’s ever attempted. His sons… His… It’s a _family thing_.

Although it will only raise more questions, Jason spares Bruce from saying it. “I know.”

Bruce looks at him and Jason looks down at the mattress. “How long?” Bruce asks, and Jason knows there are two questions there. _How long has it been going on? How long has Jason known?_

“Kid’s had a crush on him since the dawn of time,” Jason replies.

Bruce grunts in response and Jason continues.

“I’ve known that for probably just as long. Damian isn’t exactly subtle when it comes to Dickie,” he adds, glancing at Bruce. “As for...whatever else they’ve got going. I, uh, I’ve known for a while. Made sure Damian was being safe.” Well, he _tried_ , at least.

“Jason--”

“What?” Jason asks, propping himself up on his elbow. “I should’ve told you?” He shakes his head. “It’s not mine to tell.”

Bruce makes a noise, something between a huff and a hum.

Jason can’t help it. The words slip out like they could never have been kept caged. “Got our own dirty little secrets, don’t we.” Despite the phrasing, it’s not a question.

Bruce wouldn’t have answered anyway.

~

Dick waits until Damian’s roommate leaves to kiss the back of Damian’s neck in greeting. “Morning,” he murmurs, and his leg is trapped between Damian’s but he doesn’t dare try to move it yet.

Damian makes a not-quite-awake noise of protest when Dick reaches over him for his phone, and Dick presses more kisses into his hair and next to his ear and Damian grumbles again, but he leans into it.

He’s pretty sure Damian’s RA has a crush on him, otherwise they would’ve likely reported a full-grown man nearing thirty sleeping over in the dorms as often as he does.

It probably also has something to do with the fact that Alan likes Dick more than Damian, which seems like a terribly mean thing to think, but Dick doubts that Damian would actually be offended by such an idea. If Alan were to report something, it’d probably be the fact that Damian once got bored and did his homework for him. That had been the maddest Dick had ever seen him.

Dick has a few messages from Barbara, but nothing concerning so he lets his phone drop back down on the nightstand and his arm curl protectively around Damian’s chest.

Dick is certain that the others would be surprised to learn how much Damian likes cuddling, but it’s a nice little secret--between them and Alan, he supposes.

“What time is it?” Damian asks, and Dick knows that he is refusing to open his eyes. Dick doubts that Damian will ever be a morning person, given his penchant for the night and their continued heroic presence.

Dick had _just_ looked at his phone, but already the knowledge is gone. He grunts, struggles to pick it up again, making Damian whine into the pillow his face gets shoved into in the process. “Nine-fifteen,” he announces, still squishing Damian, but he rolls off soon enough.

Damian huffs.

Dick knows his first class isn’t until eleven, but Damian likes a shower, breakfast, the chance to feed Alfred, and--recently--a morning fuck before he must be on his way. Dick can help with most of those things, when he doesn’t choose laziness instead. Based on the way Damian has begun idly grinding back against him, it’s clear that his-- _ahem_ \--assistance is desired.

Palm facing downwards, Dick’s fingers crawl Damian’s spine, dipping into the crevice of his ass to find him still slick from lube and from _him_ the night before. It _had_ only been five hours since, after all. Dick presses a finger in and Damian shoves his face back into his pillow, fumbles for the little bottle between the mattress and the bed frame and shoves it into Grayson’s face in the hopes of getting his message across.

“Do you want me in you?” Dick murmurs into Damian’s hair and feels the nod more than he sees it. He feels himself twitch, excited at the prospect, at what he can already feel around his now two fingers. It’s awkward for a moment, as he struggles to open the lube without disrupting their position, but he manages. He doesn’t pull his fingers out so much as rub the stretch of Damian’s hole around them.

Damian thrusts back against Dick’s hand, greedy for it, and Dick presses a kiss to Damian’s shoulder, scissors his fingers. This isn’t their first time by any means, but it’s still fairly _new_.

There’s still a twinge of guilt as Dick thinks about fucking a sixteen-year-old that he’s supposed to _protect_ , but Damian’s voice is there, too, telling him that this is what he wants, reminding his conscience that Damian could die again--and _soon_ , despite his age. It’s not a good thought, but it’s their reality. There’s happiness to be found here.

Damian whines--still not ready for _words_ yet--and Dick acquiesces, pumping his fingers in a couple more times for good measure, or rather, for the way he can make Damian _squirm_. He slicks his cock, kneeling between Damian’s thighs only for long enough to position himself, to slide into Damian’s body in one smooth stroke.

Damian presses back against him, raising his ass up as the rest of his body remains lazy and lax. “Come on, Dami,” Dick murmurs. “You’re making me feel like a creep.”

With a sigh, Damian props himself up, moves with the rhythm of Dick’s body until Dick starts fucking him harder like he likes, until he can allow himself to collapse back down knowing that Dick will fuck him into the mattress.

“Come for me, Grayson,” Damian says, his first words of the day, and Dick does, hips pistoning as he finds his release.

Damian reaches back to clutch Dick, to ensure that Grayson stays in him. His hand moves to his cock and he jerks himself in quick, sure strokes and then he’s falling over the edge and back into the grip of his bed with Grayson on top of him.

Dick huffs an amused sigh. “Ten more minutes?” he asks.

Damian nods.

~

“I wonder if Bruce still thinks I’m too young for one-on-one training sessions like he does with Jason. They seem intense. Jason is always bruised and out-of-breath when he leaves, but I guess they’re getting along now.” Tim shrugs, scanning through information on his phone as he speaks. He looks up only when Stephanie makes a few weird noises and manages to see the exact moment she can’t stand it anymore and bursts out laughing.

She laughs so hard she chokes, hand clutching her chest and tears streaming down her face.

“What?” Tim huffs. He hates when she’s like this.

Stephanie holds out a hand until she manages to catch her breath. “Are you _kidding_ me, Rob?” She coughs.

“What?” Tim asks again. He thinks back on his last words and frowns. “No,” he says. “No, I’m not kidding.” He stares at Stephanie for a moment, her mask is pulled down so that she can shove french fries--that she _stole from him_ \--into her mouth. “Wait. Do you think Jason-- and-- and _Bruce_? No.” He shakes his head. “I mean, I know that he and Catwoman used to be a thing, but not him and _Jason_. Jason was his Robin! That’s-- That’s--”

“Not that unusual, it seems?” Stephanie suggests, tilting her head towards the commotion that’s just begun below them. It’s only one guy, but it’s Nightwing _and_ Robin who take him down _fast_.

“Ugh.”

Stephanie leans forward, so far that she just might fall off of that rooftop if she doesn’t pay attention--not that she isn’t _trained_ now, Tim knows that, but he also remembers when she was just the girl who followed him around trying to play hero, remembers when she d-- didn’t make it. “Do you think they’re gonna?” She raises an eyebrow at Tim and Tim recoils in horror.

“I saw them _doing it_ once. I don’t ever want to see it again.” And yet Tim Drake is nothing if not curious. He turns his head only partially away, but his eyes drift back to the scene, thankfully sheltered by his lenses.

Stephanie is too busy blatantly staring at Nightwing and Robin to bother with Tim’s coy act--which becomes less and less so as the events unfold below.

“In an _alley_?” he says, without thinking. “That’s gross.”

Stephanie gives a little half-shrug. “I dunno. All costumed up, adrenaline from the fight...” She turns to grin at Tim as it hits her. “I thought you weren’t gonna watch?”

Tim flushes, flustered. “I just don’t want them to-- to reveal their identities-- _again_ \--and put all of us at risk.

“Pfft.” Stephanie chuckles. “If people don’t know who we are yet, it’s gotta be because they don’t _want_ to know. I mean, most of us have _died and come back again._ That’s gotta be a _little_ bit suspicious.”

“Jason never came back,” Tim says.

Stephanie looks at him.

“Legally, I mean.” Tim huffs, glad that Dick seems to have decided it’s _not_ the time for dirty alleyway sex, despite Stephanie’s groan of disappointment.

“But he _is_...” Stephanie starts slowly, and Tim dreads where she’s going, “boning the Batman.”

“No,” Tim disagrees, harsh, but he can’t actually rule out the possibility.

“Why not?”

“Batman--the _real_ Batman--” he corrects when Stephanie clears her throat pointedly, “would never. I would know.”

“Like you knew about _them_ , Boy Wonder?”

Tim glares and hopes it comes across as scathing as he wants it to be. “I didn’t want to know. I _don’t_ want to know.”

“Just like you don’t want to know that the Red Hood and Batman are probably fucking right this very moment?”

“Ugh. Shut up, Steph,” Tim returns, with a not- _too_ -gentle shove.

Stephanie just grins at him. “Speaking of fucking...”

“I’m _not_ telling you what Kon’s dick is like. I don’t know _how_ many times I have to say that.”

“Come _on_ , Rob. It’s not like you don’t tell me about the actual sex. If you keep not telling me, I’m going to keep assuming Kryptonians have--”

“ _Spoiler_.”

~

“I know I _should_ find this creepy, but it’s kinda hot,” Stephanie announces. She’s leaning up against the doorframe, sipping a milkshake.

Damian backs off only slightly from where he’s got Dick pressed to “Why are you here, Brown? I thought you had graduated from my father’s academy of misfit youths.”

“Ouch. Is that a self-burn?” she retorts, but she’s smiling. “Don’t worry. I’m not here for you--either of you. I’m waiting for Cass.” She holds up a bag of food in explanation.

“Cass is here?” Dick asks, surprised. “I didn’t even know she was back.”

“She’s quiet,” Stephanie says, smiling. She tilts her head ever-so-slightly and Dick turns to see Cassandra has appeared behind him.

Dick tries not to blush, but he’s still not sure how to react about this whole him-and-Damian thing in front of the family. “Hey,” he says, tries to ignore the way that Damian hasn’t really let go of him.

Cassandra nods to Dick and Damian, smiles when her gaze travels to Stephanie.

Someone clears their throat and the four of them turn to see Alfred. “If you are not eating or cooking, perhaps you should leave the kitchen.” He glares particularly hard at Damian, who smirks in response.

“Problem, Pennyworth?” Damian asks, with mock sincerity, and Dick really wishes he could disappear into thin air. Although it’s always risky in the manor, it’s one thing for the other members of the family to see him with Damian, but something else altogether when it comes to Alfred--and Bruce.

“ _Yikes_ ,” Stephanie whispers. She hooks her arm through Cassandra’s and leads her out.

Alfred straightens his back--as if he had been _slouching_ before--and spares Dick a raised eyebrow. “Perhaps, Master Richard, you could teach this beast some manners instead of the other way around.” It sounds stern, but something of his amusement is given away in the crinkles around his eyes.

Damian and Alfred seemingly clash, but they love each other fiercely. Dick has only recently come to see how deep their affections lie beneath barbed words and feigned annoyance. It is no mystery why Damian had named his beloved cat after the valet, after all.

Playing it off, Dick shrugs. “I can only do so much.”

“Hmph.” Alfred glares until Damian begrudgingly drags Dick up to what is still his bedroom, despite his current living situation.

“I’ll understand, you know,” Damian says, once they are alone with the door closed and locked.

Dick tilts his head, confused. He’s smiling slightly, as if that’s his default expression. “Understand what?” he asks, and he tries to hold Damian’s hand, but Damian pulls away.

“If you’re...” Damian seems to really struggle with the next word and Dick should probably stop smiling already, but it’s frozen in place. “ _Embarrassed_ now that the others know.”

Dick blinks. “What?” His smile has gone somewhat dubious. “Oh. To have them see us--” His grin finally turns grimace. “Yeah. Aren’t _you_?”

“I’m not talking about sex, Grayson,” Damian snaps, but Dick can see that he’s contrite afterwards.

This is serious.

Carefully, Dick pulls Damian close and Damian allows it, remaining stiff in Dick’s arms.

“‘Embarrassed’?” Dick prompts.

Damian nods. “This was our secret,” he begins, “are you...alright with everyone knowing?”

It takes a moment for Dick to realize what exactly Damian is asking. “Are you asking if I’m embarrassed to be with you?” Damian tenses further and Dick sighs. “Of course I am.” Suddenly, Damian is struggling to get out of his arms, but Dick won’t let him. “Because _I’m_ old and you deserve better. Not because of you.” He stares at Damian in the hopes of the boy turning to look at him. “Dami.” He sighs. “Dami, look at me.”

Eventually, Damian acquiesces, although his eyes refuse to meet Dick’s.

“You’re great, alright? I’m-- I’m _happy_ to be with you. I _love_ you,” and with that, Damian _can’t_ look at him, “even if it _is_ a crime.”

“- _tt_ -”

~

Jason had fallen asleep in Bruce’s bed. In Bruce’s arms.

When he wakes up, he’s confused, _embarrassed_ , but there’s something so nice about being held that Jason has tried not to think about.

It seems like Bruce is still asleep. Or, at least, Jason can’t imagine that Bruce’s arm would be wrapped so securely around him if Bruce were _aware_ of it.

He wants to stay here. He wants to bask in this for a little while longer, but it feels...wrong. If Bruce wakes up, he’ll know that Jason is awake--that Jason wants to be _held_ and cared for and--

It’s too vulnerable here in the safety of Bruce’s arms.

Jason wriggles away, tosses on clothes only to hop out the window rather than take his now usual route out through the front door.

~

Damian is lounging in Dick’s apartment, Alfred with him for the long weekend and at his side, and feels only a _bit_ creepy watching Damian draw.

It’s not like he can even see what Damian is working on. He just knows that it’s art and not homework.

Dick eats his cereal slowly, curious.

He looks down when Damian looks up, but he’s not sure why. He’s certain that Damian already knows he was staring.

“- _tt_ -”

Dick smiles down at his bowl, pretends to be deeply invested in its contents as he hears Damian pad across the room.

“It’s not you,” Damian announces, tossing his sketchbook onto the table.

Dick can’t help how quickly he glances at it, how quickly he’s picking it up to start flipping through the pages.

It’s animals, mostly. Nature. Some are in color, but many are just rough pencil sketches.

“Wow,” and Dick doesn’t even _mean_ to say it. “I never think about you as an artist.”

Damian makes a small noise--maybe just a startled breath--and snatches the sketchbook away. “It doesn’t matter,” he says. “It’s simply another skill I have learned from my training.”

“They trained you to do _art_?” Dick asks, surprised.

Damian doesn’t respond, but he hides his sketchbook away in his messenger bag to close the subject.

Dick sighs. “Are you hungry?” he asks, and Alfred is trotting over before Damian can answer. “Alright, buddy,” Dick tells the cat. “I’ll get your dinner.”

“I will take care of ours,” Damian says.

Dick stares at him a moment. “You can _cook_ , too?”

Damian glares and Dick hides his smile. Dick imagines what it would be like if Damian were here every night.

~

Jason does his best to quietly slip out the window and away from Bruce. It’s more natural this way.

They’ve gone back to what they had. They fuck. They argue. Sometimes they even _fight_. If there are moments of hesitation--when Jason feels something, almost says something, or, fuck, _Bruce_ looks like he might--Jason is quick to be the one to close off and make a joke or a jibe instead.

He’s just landed in the bushes when he catches sight of two people making out just a few feet away.

Well, one _person_ and one half-Kryptonian.

Although Kon should’ve heard him, it’s Tim who pulls away to look.

“What are you _doing_ here?” Tim asks, perhaps frustrated, but he seems to compose himself. “I mean. No. Why are you here?” He’s trying to use his Robin voice, infuse some authority into his question, but Jason can see the way he shifts awkwardly to hide his erection.

Jason smirks. “What are _you_ doing here?”

“Kon came--”

“Already?” Jason asks, offers a low whistle. “Sorry about that, kid.”

Tim huffs and continues as if Jason hadn’t interrupted. “ _To give me_ \--”

“Let me guess--”

Tim raises his voice, “To give me a sample to analyze in the Cave’s lab.”

“Among other things,” Kon adds, rewarded by his boyfriend’s look of ultimate betrayal and Jason’s gleeful approval.

 

~

Tim wonders if he can rig up some sort of warning system--some sort of _alarm_ \--that will keep him from seeing anything horrifying ever again.

Unfortunately, he hasn’t figured it out yet.

He groans and backpedals into his bedroom in the manor. They’re only there for Alfred’s birthday and Tim had for some reason _forgotten_ why he’d been spending less time here.

Maybe if he walks _really_ loudly next time, they’ll hear him and he won’t need to gouge out his own eyes--or figure out a way to erase his memories. All of them, if he needs to.

“I thought you were getting us something to eat,” Kon says, slightly confused from his position on the bed. He’s not wearing pants.

Tim isn’t sure if seeing his boyfriend’s dick is the best or worst thing to see after… _that_. It’s definitely more pleasant, but he doesn’t want the association to ruin Kon for him. He just shakes his head.

Kon laughs. “Tim Drake is scared? Of what?”

Tim huffs. “That thing that I _don’t want to talk about_ ,” he whines.

With a stretch, Kon appraises Tim’s expression. “Maybe you _should_ be happy for them.”

Tim scoffs at him. “It’s just… _gross_.”

Kon shrugs. “Why?”

“Damian is _sixteen_. Dick is going to be _twenty-nine_.”

Kon holds up his hands. “Hey, I never said it wasn’t a little bit creepy. I’m just saying…” He shrugs. “Clark tells me he’s found his soulmate. And you and me?” He smiles, happy and warm and just for _Tim_. “I don’t know. I like to think maybe we’re meant to be.”

Tim doesn’t tell Kon how ridiculous his subconscious finds this whole concept, instead twining his fingers with Kon’s, pressing their palms together. “That’s...really sweet,” he admits slowly, knowing the other shoe is about to drop.

Kon brings the back of Tim’s hand to his lips and presses a kiss to it, then he shrugs again. “Maybe they are, too.”

Tim frowns at Kon as if deeply disappointed. “Way to cheapen the moment.”

~

“Richard Grayson.”

Dick freezes. That’s not the sort of tone one takes with anything resembling a friend. He puts down his donut and looks up at the commissioner. “Good morning, Commissioner Gordon,” he offers with a smile, but Gordon returns the greeting with a stern look and takes the seat opposite Dick.

“That boy is a minor,” Gordon says, his voice low and his jaw tensing.

Dick swallows, sits up straighter. “I know.” He can’t really think of anything else to say.

“I don’t care that he’s out there fighting crimes and risking his life,” Gordon says, even lower, forcing Dick to lean in to listen. “He’s still a _boy_.”

Dick nods.

“I can’t just turn a blind eye to the fact that one of Gotham’s most notable citizens is in a very inappropriate, very _public_ relationship with a sixteen-year-old boy.” Gordon sighs. “A _child_.”

Dick can see the commissioner’s hands shaking, clutched together on the table, and he reaches out to hold onto them. It takes a lot to make Gordon admit to all he knows, to confront Dick like this. Dick bites his lip, speaking softly but clearly, “In some ways, he is. But he’s already died, Jim. He’s died and come back. I should say no to him, sure,” and Dick’s half-smile is sad as he continues, “but I can’t.” His eyes are downcast, but when he brings them up to meet Gordon’s, he finds something in the other man quaking apart. There are words that are too hard to speak, meanings that can’t be properly expressed through language. They _know_.

Jim Gordon attempts saving face. He sits up straighter. He pulls his hands away. “You’re still a criminal,” he murmurs. “Don’t let me see or hear anything I shouldn’t,” he announces, chair legs scraping the floor as he pushes away from the table. He disappears with the swish of his trenchcoat.

Dick sighs, goes to pick up his cup only to find his own hand trembling now.

~

A batarang hits the switch and Clark turns to find his friend standing there, being a shadow of the night as always.

“I thought Jason--” Clark starts.

“He went home,” Bruce cuts him off. Clark can’t hide his emotions well and Bruce can see the myriad of thoughts rushing through his mind. “He doesn’t stay.”

Clark glances around, likely checking for any citizens nearby. “Do you want him to?” he asks, and when Bruce only shifts in discomfort, he adds, “So, ask him.” He smiles like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Bruce regrets attending Lex Luthor’s fundraiser in Metropolis. Talking to Clark was sometimes the _worst_.

What did an alien know about his relationship problems? Especially one so happily married?

He had almost _wanted_ to discuss it though. At least Clark had known since the beginning.

~

Stephanie has Cass--willingly--pinned down to the training mat. They’re both flushed, sweaty, _close_ \--

Bruce clears his throat.

Stephanie determinedly does _not_ look at him.

“Stephanie,” he says. “Cassandra.” He’s using his Batman voice and Stephanie isn’t _stupid_.

She is, however, _willful_.

Stephanie turns her head to face him and tosses him a smile. “What’s up, B?”

“This room is for training,” he tells her.

Stephanie rolls off of Cassandra and sits up, grabbing her water bottle and gulping a fair amount down before she takes a moment to just stare at him. “Right,” she agrees. “I’m sure you would _never_ do something _inappropriate_ here on the training mats.”

Bruce huffs.

Cass stands and stretches. “It is better to be truthful, isn’t it?” She wanders over to a punching bag and starts working on it, removing herself from the situation.

Bruce offers Stephanie his hand and she tugs him down next to her--or rather, tugs at Bruce’s hand and he acquiesces.

“Wanna talk?” Stephanie offers, bumping her shoulder into Bruce’s arm.

Bruce is fond of all of them, she knows, but asking him to open up about his feelings is probably a more difficult proposition than asking him to let the Joker punch him. Repeatedly.

Stephanie waits what feels like an eternity. “Does anyone else know?”

There’s another moment, long enough that Steph is ready to give up, when the answer comes. “Alfred.” He clears his throat. “And Clark.”

A laugh bubbles out before Stephanie can stop it, but she schools her features into something resembling serious and open and non-judgmental. “Okay,” she says, twitching her fingers in her lap. “That’s a start.”

Bruce shifts uncomfortably.

“It’s okay,” Stephanie says, and perhaps she should be more subtle, but it isn’t exactly her style. “It’s okay to be _happy_. You’ll still be the big, scary Batman to everyone else.” Showing some sense of decorum, lower she adds, “You can be happy with Jason.”

Bruce tenses at just the verbalization of it. “It’s not that simple.”

“Fine.” She stands up and offers him a hand, hiding her surprise when he accepts the offer--although he doesn’t make her actually pull him up. “Be that way.” Her smirk belies her words and Bruce offers her a hint of amusement in return.

It _can’t_ be that simple.

Stephanie doesn’t tell him that everyone knows. She doubts it would makes things any easier.

~

Jason has barely climbed in through the window before he’s on all fours halfway to the bed, jeans dragged down to his thighs as Bruce fucks him.

Eventually, they shift. Jason rolls onto his back and grins as Bruce bends him in half, his knees hooked over Bruce’s shoulders. It’s a hardship to kiss, to press themselves _that _close, but one they gladly endure. Jason mouth tastes like cigarettes and Bruce finds that he doesn’t care because it’s_ Jason_.

Bruce hauls Jason into bed, pressing kisses to his cheek, his jaw, his chest for a long time afterward.

“I guess I better--” Jason starts, tries to get up.

Bruce almost allows him to go, almost lets another opportunity go past. “Do you want to stay?” he asks.

Jason freezes. “What-- In the manor? No, it’s okay, I can…” Bruce seems to be holding his breath, staring at Jason. Jason isn’t sure what to make of it.

“Would you like to stay here?” Bruce asks. He clears his throat. “With me.”

“You don’t have to do this,” Jason tells him. “I’m not expecting the perfect gentleman or anything. I mean, how many times have we done this? It’s gotta be in the hundreds now.” His smirk is strained, but he hopes Bruce accepts it.

“You don’t have to--” Bruce starts, and Jason has never seen him so awkward. “Not if you don’t want to.” He squeezes Jason’s hand. “ _I_ want you to stay.”

“Just this time?” Jason asks, sounding suddenly small.

Bruce shrugs. “Every time.”

“Maybe,” Jason says, but this time it sounds like _yes_.

~

 _Everyone_ is at breakfast the next morning.

Kon seems blissfully unaware of how awkward it all is, slathering butter on a biscuit and shoving it into his mouth. He looks over when Tim’s phone buzzes.

It’s a text. From Stephanie.

Stephanie looks from Tim to Bruce and Jason--sitting abnormally close, Jason in Bruce’s robe--and back at Tim.

Tim looks down at his phone as he opens the message--and, luckily, it prevents him from catching sight of Damian’s hand straying to Dick’s thigh under the table.

The message reads: _I told you so._


End file.
